


Karma

by disaster_by_chance



Series: Capitalist Kings [11]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alexis | Quackity-centric, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Gen, Parent Sam | Awesamdude, Sam | Awesamdude is Alexis | Quackity's Parent, Song: Karma (AJR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 09:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_by_chance/pseuds/disaster_by_chance
Summary: "I've been so good, I've been helpful and friendly,I've been so good, why am I feeling empty?I've been so good, I've been so good this year.I've been so good, but it's still getting harder,I've been so good, where the hell is the karma?I've been so good, I've been so good this year."In where Quackity doesn't understand why, after all that he's done to make good in the world, he's never gotten good in return.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Sam | Awesamdude
Series: Capitalist Kings [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166960
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Karma

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This fic will be a little different from my normal ones, as you'll realize somewhat quickly. I wrote this based on the song "Karma" by AJR (which is a band I highly recommend you check out if you haven't already) because I thought it fit Quackity's arc pretty well. 
> 
> If you want, listening to it while reading will enhance the experience, but it's up to you! I listened to it on loop while writing this, so I don't think I'll listen to it for another week or so. 
> 
> Lmao, anyways, hope you enjoy the fic!

At this point, Sam was just going to have to get used to coming home to someone else in his base. Because for the past two months or so, Sam had been coming home after a long day of work to find someone else taking a brief residence in his base. 

Sometimes it was Sapnap, coming back and forth to get his things that he left in his room. Other times it was Puffy, who would be in the middle of trying to pull a prank on Sam. More often than not, it was Ponk who was just waiting around to hang out with Sam. And all the other times, it was Tommy looking for shelter or coming to ask Sam to fix Sam Nook whenever the bot malfunctioned. 

It wasn’t like Sam minded, he didn’t, in fact. The whole purpose of his base, despite him building it very far away in a very subtle hiding place, was for it to be somewhat of a refuge for anyone who needed it. If anyone needed a place to stay or any materials of any sort, they were more than welcomed to come in and get whatever they needed. 

Especially when what they needed was someone to talk to. 

“Quackity?” Sam questioned, staring in shock at the sight of his son standing right in the middle of the wide entrance hallway. 

“Hey, Dad,” Quackity coughed awkwardly, giving his dad a small wave. 

Sam frowned a little bit, immediately getting worried. “Is something wrong?” He asked, quickly stepping further inside as the base door clicked and whirled closed before leaving the two in silence. 

It wasn’t often that Quackity visited the base. Ever since he moved out, he hadn’t been around, too busy being Vice President, or taking care of other things outside of the Badlands. Sam didn’t mind all that much, though it just meant that he was now extra worried about why Quackity had decided to pay him a visit. Especially when they were working on Las Nevadas together. If this had been business, then Quackity would’ve brought it up at the worksite. But this was the base, this was home. So Sam was worried. 

“I, uh,” Quackity hesitated before rubbing the back of his neck, “I...I don’t know…” 

This didn’t help Sam’s worries at all. He quickly walked over to Quackity and put a hand on his son’s shoulder, tilting his head so that he could see Quackity’s face a little better. 

“Do you want to talk?” His voice was quiet, reassuring. Something that told Quackity that things were going to be okay and that Sam was there for him no matter what was going on with him at the moment. 

Quackity turned his head, looking at his dad with a frown before he exhaled and nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I think I do want to talk…” 

Sam smiled a little bit, grateful that Quackity at least wanted to talk. “Alright, that sounds good,” he murmured, “We can talk while I make some pie. Does that sound good?” 

“Yeah,” Quackity smiled a bit, “t-that sounds great…” 

Sam gave his shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze before he let go and motioned for Quackity to follow him to the kitchen where he could sit and talk while Sam made some of his famous pumpkin pie. 

Quackity quietly followed, the frown returning to his face as he walked with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet and seemingly lost in thought. 

It wasn’t often that Sam saw his son like this. Usually, the duck hybrid was causing good trouble all in the name of fun or working with Sam on the Las Nevadas, so he didn’t spend much time moping around like he was doing now. This worried Sam, as the last time he’d seen Quackity look so dejected and drained was during the Manburg era. Something Sam thought was way in the past for both of them. 

They walked into the kitchen, Sam pulled out a bar stool chair at the counter for Quackity. His son muttered a ‘thanks’ as he took a seat while Sam walked around the counter to preheat the oven. 

Quackity watched his dad silently as the creeper hybrid got out different ingredients and materials to make pumpkin pie. Sitting there and watching his dad do so gave him a small, nostalgic feeling that made him smile just a bit. 

He sighed, bowing his head as he looked at his hands, twiddling his thumbs to sort of distract himself as he tried to think about what he wanted to really talk about with his dad. Because he knew he should tell him everything on his mind, but at the same time, he didn’t want his dad to worry about him. 

However, he knew that his dad was an observant individual when it came to his sons. He could tell when something was up. Sam never brought it up directly to them though unless he thought it was something that should be addressed immediately. Quackity himself had done a good job of hiding his true feelings behind jokes and facades from his dad, thanks to his shapeshifting abilities. But Quackity thought that it was about time he told his dad what had been on his mind since he took oath as Vice President under the Schlatt administration. 

“Before we start,” Sam’s voice pulled Quackity out of his thoughts. He looked up from his hands, over to his dad who was currently putting on a white apron over his green sweater. 

“Just know that even though I’m baking this pumpkin pie, I’m still listening to everything you’re willing to tell me,” He smiled at Quackity as he rolled up his sleeves. 

Quackity’s eyes caught the scabs littering his dad’s forearms before he looked away and nodded, smiling nervously. “I know, dad,” he chuckled lightly, “you could probably make pumpkin pie in your sleep, you’ve done it so many times.” 

Sam laughed softly, nodding as he waved a finger at Quackity, “You’ve got me there.” 

Quackity’s smile fell, as did his gaze. He went back to looking at his twiddling thumbs, inhaling slowly through his nose. His thoughts were still running around his head, each one of them trying to be the first thing he brought up to his dad. A mental figment of himself ran around his head trying to grab the thoughts and piece them together to little avail. 

He knitted his eyebrows together, glaring at himself before deciding “fuck it” and exhaled loudly as he looked up at his dad. 

“In short,” he started, “I feel like shit. Complete and absolute shit.” 

_ I've been so good, I've been helpful and friendly _

_ I've been so good, why am I feeling empty? _

_ I've been so good, I've been so good this year _

_ I've been so good, but it's still getting harder _

_ I've been so good, where the hell is the karma? _

_ I've been so good, I've been so good this year _

Sam frowned, looking up from the giant bowl he was currently getting ready to mix ingredients in. He stayed silent though, wanting to let Quackity get all his thoughts and feelings out before Sam tried to say any comments or give advice.

“I also just feel...so...empty?” Quackity whispered as if this was something he hadn’t realized before until now. “Completely and utterly empty. Like, like I’m not even here. As if I was just some sort of ghost just playing the role of a funny guy.” He chuckled sadly, slowly waving a hand in front of his face as if he were feeling for a mask. 

His hand slowed to a stop, frowning when he didn’t feel anything there. No mask, no cloth, nothing. It was just him. Yet why didn’t it feel like that? 

He looked up at Sam and sighed, hesitating before he looked away, putting his head on his hand, propped-up by his elbow. 

“I...I just don’t get it,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes a bit as he watched his finger trace shapes into the bar counter, “Why I feel like this.” 

“Feel...empty?” Sam questioned, his voice quiet, slowly mixing the ingredients together in the large bowl as he watched Quackity with a concerned frown. 

Quackity glanced up at him, inhaling sharply before giving a few quick nods. “Yeah, empty...I just- Okay,” he sat up straight, looking at Sam now, both hands on the counter now, “-I’m just confused on why I feel like this. Because obviously, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, right?” He scoffed, laughing nervously. 

_ Why, are you asking me why? _

_ My days and nights are filled with disappointment _

_ Fine, oh no, everything's fine _

_ I'm not sure why I booked today's appointment _

“I mean, after everything, with everything I have…” He waved a hand in the air as he continued on, “I have a nice family, two loving finances, a casino in the works...With Dream in prison and...and Schlatt...gone.” his voice got silent as his eyebrows knitted in frustration. “I just don’t understand why I’m not  _ happier _ . Why I don’t feel…” he struggled for the word before uttering, “...complete.” 

His wings ruffled behind him, drawing Sam’s attention onto them for a bit. They still hadn’t fully healed from the Manburg festival or Quackity’s time with Schlatt. Sam didn’t know why this was the case, but he had given Quackity a sort of brace to help with the process and strengthen his wings so he could stil use them. For whatever reason though, Sam noted that he stopped wearing them. 

“I mean, all things considered, right?” He glanced at Sam and laughed dryly, pulling Sam out of his thoughts. “I was Vice President for how long? Sure, I made mistakes during those times, but  _ everything  _ I did, all of it, I did it for everyone else.” 

“I thought that with Schlatt, I could make a difference. I thought that I could take what Wilbur created and build upon it.” He continued, “I thought that we would be able to let L’Manburg reach its true potential and thus help the people who lived there. But...In the end...That’s not what happened,” he shook his head sadly, looking down at his hands. 

“I was stupid to think that somehow Schlatt, of all people, could make the server better.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose, “So once he...once he died, I thought that things would finally get better. I thought that I could finally make government something that could benefit everyone.” 

Sam listened with a frown, setting aside the mixed ingredients to work on the crust of the pie. As he kneaded the dough, he watched as Quackity continued to talk. Sure, Sam wasn’t a part of L’Manburg, he never was, but he knew how much that country meant to his son, despite it turning him away the first time Quackity sought to be a part of it. So Sam didn’t know the extent of Quackity’s influence on the former country, but he was well aware of how much effort Quackity put into running that country to the best of his abilities, despite not even being the President. 

“Even if I wasn’t the President, even if I was just another guy in the cabinet,” Quackity ranted, “I just wanted what was best for the country! That’s all I wanted!” He banged a fist on the bar counter. 

“Technoblade, the Butcher Army,” he listed, “I just wanted to keep our government safe! I didn’t want another repeat of the Festival massacre or the damage of the war to happen again. I didn’t want Tubbo, a  _ sixteen-year-old _ , having to deal with anarchists such as fucking Technoblade or Philza.” He shook his head, voice shrill, “I didn’t want that! But what did I fucking get in return for it?” 

He pointed at the scar running from the top of his left eyebrow all the way down to his chin, cutting over his eye and mouth. “I got this!” he shouted, “I lost a fucking life to Technoblade and afterward people started to paint me as the villain!” He gave a short, hysterical laugh, “Can you believe that?” 

Concerned, Sam stopped kneading the dough, looking at Quackity with a frown. “Big Q…” his voice was quiet and calm, “you did what you could.” 

“That’s what I’m  _ saying,  _ Dad!” Quackity threw his hands up in frustration, “I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough and it  _ never _ will be!”

_ What, am I normal or not? _

_ Am I crazier than other patients? _

_ Right, I've done everything right _

_ So where's the karma doc, I've lost my patience _

“Quackity,” Sam chided, “now don’t say that.” 

“But it’s true!” Quackity argued, pointing, “Every attempt to do something good, to try and make things right in this server end up in complete failure! Remember when Tommy’s first day in exile? Minutes before we went to go talk with Dream, we, as a cabinet, decided to stick the middle finger to Dream and refuse to exile Tommy.”

Quackity frowned, recounting the events. “I agreed to wanting to keep Tommy, even though I knew how real Dream’s threats were because I wanted to keep Tommy safe! I didn’t want anything happening to him! I played the good guy and then what happened?” Dejectedly, Quackity slumped against the counter, the right side of his head on his outstretched arm. 

“Well…” he muttered, “I’m sure you already know what happened…” 

Sam looked away, biting down on his tongue, the both of them knowing the answer. The horrors of what happened with exile that Dream told Sam every now and then in his cell haunted Sam on the daily. Every time he saw Tommy, he couldn’t help but remember what Dream had told him. It terrified him to no end, the little amount of regret and guilt Dream had about the situation. He was glad he was locked up, though it put even more pressure on him to perform his duty as the Warden and keep Dream locked in there. 

Quackity let out a loud sigh, his fingers tapping at the countertop as Sam molded the dough into a pan, shaping it around the edges before he poured the mixture from the bowl on top of the pale dough. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for letting Tommy go through what he did,” Quackity stated, his fingers slowing to a stop, “and if I’m being honest, I frankly think that Tommy doesn’t care all that much. For his sake, I’ve pushed the whole ordeal aside, it’s not something worth bringing up in conversations.” 

Sam continued to listen, relating to Quackity in the sense that he also wasn’t going to forgive himself for letting Dream get away with what he did. Offering his base to Tommy the first day wasn’t enough, there was so much more Sam could’ve done to prevent that trauma from happening, but he didn’t do it. 

Sighing, he placed the pie in the oven, setting a timer before he washed his hands in the sink, using a nearby wool towel to dry them off afterward. He walked over to where Quackity was sitting, his son’s eyes following him, and pulled out a chair before taking a seat in front of him. 

Quackity gave him a weak smile before looking away and continuing on with his venting. 

“But just...after everything, everything I’ve tried to do for this server, for L’Manburg, for my friends...all of it was with good intentions.” Quackity stated, slowly sitting back up, “I worked my ass off in that cabinet to make sure the government ran the way it should’ve. I created my own government that I ultimately tore down with my own hands,” he frowned, looking down at his hands in frustration, “Now I’m working my ass off with the casino to make sure it turns out the way that I want it to.” 

Quackity hesitated, glancing at Sam before he turned away. “Not to mention...even though I love Karl and Sapnap with everything I have...I…” he stopped, choking slightly on his words. “I just feel so distant from them…” he whispered, “sometimes I see them and think...I think that they’d be better off without me,” and before Sam could say anything, Quackity turned and interjected with, “And they do! I’ve seen them go off and start their new kingdom or whatever with George, and yeah, I had my own project I’m working on but…” he frowned, rubbing his good eye, “but they could’ve at least offered to let me join...right?” 

Sam frowned, nodding slowly. He knew how much Quackity loved Sapnap and Karl, he knew that both of them meant so much to Quackity, so hearing that Quackity felt alone and left behind broke his heart. 

After seeing him with Schlatt, he thought that Karl and Sapnap would help him a lot, and for a time being, they did. They helped Quackity heal and grow. They had done so much to help him in Sam’s eyes, but now knowing that it wasn’t enough for Quackity to feel loved? Sam didn’t know how to feel. 

“I just don’t understand…” Quackity muttered, silent tears falling down his face now. At least they didn’t sting along his scar anymore. 

“All that I’ve done...everything I’ve sacrificed to make the server a better place…” he whispered, “And I’ve gotten nothing but an empty feeling in return.” 

_ 'Cause I've been so good, I've been working my ass off _

_ I've been so good, still, I'm lonely and stressed out _

_ I've been so good, I've been so good this year _

_ And I've been so good, but it's still getting harder _

_ I've been so good, where the hell is the karma? _

_ I've been so good, I've been so good this year _

Sam sighed, running a hand through his short, green hair, trying to collect the right words to talk to Quackity. Like his son, he knew all about not feeling like you were enough. Always striving to do the absolute best. A perfectionist, if you may. But a perfectionist with a huge heart that wanted to look after everyone and anyone. A perfectionist heart that wanted to bear everyones’ sins and play the savior. 

“Look, Big Q,” Sam stammered, rubbing the back at his neck, “I just want to start off by saying thank you.” 

Quackity raised an eyebrow, sniffed as he rubbed some tears away, turning to look at his hybrid father. 

“Thank you for telling me this,” Sam thanked. 

“I know something like this isn’t easy to do. Telling someone how you feel, especially when that feeling is complete emptiness or pure frustration at what is going on in your life.” He continued on, reaching out and putting a hand on Quackity’s shoulder, “I’m just...I’m glad you told me this.” 

Quackity glanced at the hand on his shoulder before looking back at Sam and giving a small nod. “Y-yeah,” he muttered, “I just...It’s becoming too much.” he looked down at his hands, opening and closing them before making them into fists. “The overwhelming feeling of emptiness and frustration at everything…” 

“Which is completely valid!” Sam piped up, taking his hand off to point his finger in the air. “After everything that you have done, Marburg, New L’Manburg, the Butcher Army, the Festival, Las Nevadas, all of that-” he motioned vaguely in the air, “-it’s completely valid to want something good to come out from it. Something good for your sake.” 

Quackity frowned, hesitant to look at Sam, but he listened as Sam continued to talk. 

“You want validation for your actions, you want someone to return these favors, uh,” he snapped his fingers, “pass it forward if you would. You’re thinking by doing good, you should get good in return, but that hasn’t been the case.” 

“No shit,” Quackity muttered, his fingertips dancing over the scar woven into his face. 

Sam frowned, ignoring the comment. “Well, I think it’s valid that you feel like this. I don’t think that it’s something you should be ashamed of or anything. If anything, I think it would be helpful for other people to know about how you’re feeling,” Sam suggested. 

“What do you mean?” Quackity questioned, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Talk to everyone. Everyone you’ve helped,” Sam explained, “they might not understand the struggles and lengths you’ve gone for them in order to ensure that their lives were a little better. They might not have taken your actions to be as such, therefore they have no way of knowing to pay it forward.” 

Quackity thought for a bit before shaking his head. “No, Dad, I can’t do that…” He muttered, “I’ll feel like a complete jackass if I do something like that.” 

“Okay, well, maybe just try communicating with people,” Sam offered instead. “If you talk more about your feelings with others, things might get better.” 

“And what if they don’t?” Quackity whispered.

“They will.” Sam assured, taking Quackity’s hands into his and giving them a squeeze, “I promise they will.” 

_ Time, I know we're out of time _

_ But what if sad thoughts come and I can't stop it _

_ Bye, I don't wanna say bye _

_ If only I could keep you in my pocket _

Quackity looked up at his dad with a frown. A mixture of emotions ran across his expression. He was confused, conflicted, unsure if he could believe Sam’s words to be true. He didn’t know if communication was the way to go, as he was now too afraid to talk with Karl and Sapnap about what was going on between them. He didn’t know if just talking about these things would really do him any good. He was terrified that it would just leave him feeling emptier than before, an endless void of want and need. 

But on the other hand, he knew it was something to be considered. After all, he knew Sam only wanted the best for him. This advice was simply something to try and get Quackity on the road to feeling better. To get him feeling like himself again. 

“Sa-” Quackity hesitated before shaking his head, “Dad, what if you’re wrong though? What if communication doesn’t help and instead leaves me feeling worse than what I’m already feeling right now?” 

Sam frowned, sighing silently as he weakly squeezed Quackity’s hands once more before letting go. 

“Honestly….I don’t know what it’ll do,” he admitted quietly, “Communication is key, they say, so I assume that it might have some benefits to helping you feel better.” 

“But, I do know this,” he smiled softly, as he held up a finger, “you’re a strong kid with a passion for going above and beyond. It could just be that your karma hasn’t come around just yet. If anything, Las Nevadas might just be the tipping point.”

_ To give me some diagnosis of why I'm so hollow _

_ Please give me instructions, I promise I'll follow _

Quackity seemed to understand what Sam meant by that. Though that was a possibility, the fact that his karma hadn’t fully come around after every good thing he’d done in his own eyes, he couldn’t sit around and wait. 

He hoped, he prayed, that Las Nevadas would be the tipping point. The last piece on the chessboard that would let him call checkmate to his hollow feelings. 

Because, in a materialistic sense, Las Nevadas was going to be a gold mine for him. After all, he came up with the idea just to get rich. He’d been so tired, waiting around for karma, that he wanted to force its hand with Las Nevadas. 

He wanted to show everyone what he was capable of. He wanted them all to see how much power he held. How far he’d come from the sad title of Vice President nearly a year ago.

Quackity hoped Sam had a point. If anything, Sam’s comment validated his feeling about making Las Nevadas purely for profit and his own being. But then again, he figured he deserved it. 

After everything he constantly put on the line for other people on the server, after everything he sacrificed to make the server a better place. He deserved something like this.

_ I tripped on my ankle and fractured my elbow _

_ But doesn't that mean that the tour's gonna sell though? _

“You’re right…” he muttered, looking away from Sam. “I should just...wait until Las Nevadas is finished. Even if I feel empty right now...It’s got to mean something once it’s done, right?” 

Sam smiled a bit, nodding. “You’ll see. Finishing a large project is the best part.” He claimed, “The catharsis it gives you cannot be beaten. I truly think that it’ll fill you with a new purpose so that you don’t feel as empty anymore.” 

Quackity smiled a bit, humming softly as he thought about the future and opening of the Las Nevadas. Potentially it could do what Sam claimed it would. After all, unlike all his efforts in the past, this was completely his own original idea. 

L’Manburg and Manburg were never his, he only did what he thought was best for the country out of the goodness of his heart. He had no real connections to them, other than Manburg being his home, so there was never that connection. 

But with Las Nevadas?

Something that was his idea that he was helping build from the ground up by his own hands? 

Maybe he’d finally get what he’d been asking for. 

Quackity sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced up at Sam, frowning softly. “I...I appreciate this, Dad. I really do.” 

“Oh, well you’re welcome,” Sam smiled, “You know that I’m always here for you, right?” 

Quackity nodded, dropping his hand. “I know...But...I’m sorry,” he muttered, gaze on the countertop, “I didn’t want to make it seem like I was some jackass all crying about not getting good things out of life.” 

He laughed dryly, shaking his head as he did so. “Woah, I must’ve sounded like such a cry baby…” 

_ I try to explain the good faith that's been wasted _

_ But after an hour it sounds like complaining _

Sam frowned, shaking his head in disagreement.

“No, no, Quackity, don’t say that.” Sam muttered, putting a hand on his shoulder again. “You shouldn’t ever view your venting or rambles as something to be ashamed of. I’m not here to judge you or anything, I’m here to help.” 

Quackity reluctantly looked at Sam, knowing that his Dad was completely right. He knew Sam didn’t mind everything Quackity was telling him. He knew that he wanted to hear about Quackity’s feelings, no matter how dumb Quackity thought they were. 

“You had valid points,” Sam reminded, “so don’t you go thinking that it was some bad idea to come and rant to me, okay?”

Chuckling, Quackity patted the top of his Dad’s hand, nodding slowly. “Okay...okay…” he hummed, “But I still feel bad about it.” 

Sam pulled his hand away. “Don’t feel bad about it,” he repeated, “your feelings matter Big Q. And as your father, I care a lot about you and how you’re feeling. Especially when it’s something like how you said you’ve been feeling.”

The oven beeped, getting both of their attention, the smell of freshly baked pumpkin pie filling the room. 

Sam smiled softly before getting off the barstool chair and walking over to the oven, grabbing some mitts from a drawer before he popped open the oven and reached in to grab the pie. He placed it down on a mat, closing the oven door with his foot before turning back to the pie and sighing happily. 

At the sight, Quackity was brought back to his younger self. A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he watched his dad take the pie out of the oven. Baking had been a huge pastime in the Awesam family, and Quackity didn’t realize how much he missed it until he was back at home, safe and away from the troubles of the server that awaited him outside of the base. 

Here he was, back at home, with pie, his caring dad, and filled with the nostalgic feeling for wanting to be a kid again. A kid without a worry in the world, only afraid of what was for dinner and whether or not dad would find out about him taking his brother’s toys. 

He missed that. 

Sam looked up at the pie, giving him a smile before he picked up a knife and traded the smile for a slice of pie topped with whipped cream and cinnamon dust. 

Quackity thanked him and picked up his fork, taking a bite of the still steaming pie. The heat never really bothered him to be fair, and the pie just smelled way too good to be just sitting there while Quackity waited for it to cool. 

As always, the pie was amazing. Nothing short of Awesome. 

Quackity melted, smiling softly and he eagerly took another bite, Sam chuckling softly as he got his own slice of pie.

Yeah, Sam thought, he’s going to be okay. 

_ Wait don't go away, can I lie here forever? _

_ You say that I'm better, why don't I feel better? _

With every bite of pie, Quackity was reminded of a childhood that had been robbed from Tommy, from Tubbo, from Ranboo. He was reminded that whatever he did, he couldn’t help them, though he tried and though he wanted to. With every warm bite of pie, he was reminded of the comforting feeling he always got whenever he was around Karl or Sapnap. The fluttering feeling in his stomach that flowed into his chest and warmed him with delight. With every cool bite of whipped cream, he was reminded of his empty feelings, of his  _ loneliness _ . That hopeless feeling that kept him up at night, making him think that all his struggles, everything he’d done had all been for nothing.

The pie quickly lost its flavor. 

Halfway finished, Quackity pushed it aside, putting the fork down with a frown, making Sam tilt his head in confusion and worry. 

“Quackity? You alright?” Sam asked, voice quiet.

The duck hybrid stayed silent for a bit, staring at the pie as he thought. 

Part of him wanted to believe that Las Nevadas was going to turn things around for him. He’d been waiting too long, working too hard, for it not to give him the karma he believed he deserved. But at the same time, he knew that this wasn’t the same as every other endeavor in the past.

Las Nevadas was purely for his own advancement, purely for his own gain. It wasn’t like he was trying to build up a perfect government to keep everyone safe or anything, no. 

Though he might’ve started it off as an idea to potentially help other people out. As something that could give him a powerful status that would enable him to help people in ways he couldn’t before due to his lower status and wealth. Though originally that had been the plan, his talk with Sam, his time with his thoughts helped him realize something. 

_ The universe works in mysterious ways _

_ But I'm starting to think it ain't working for me _

Quackity smiled softly to himself, the sly and mischievous intentions behind it making Sam frown in worry and concern. 

“Y’know what Dad?” Quackity chuckled, looking over at Sam, “I think Las Nevadas could be a tipping point.” 

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, blinking a few times before he smiled nervously, tilting his head, “That’s good!” his smile faltered a bit, knowing that look. It was Quackity’s classic ‘underlying intentions’ look and it worried Sam. What sort of underlying intentions did Quackity have?

“Yeah,” Quackity nodded, “I think that with this, I’ll finally get what I deserve. I’ll make sure of it.” 

_ Doctor, should I be good? _

_ Should I be good this year? _


End file.
